For Science
by newvagabond
Summary: Ratchet fapping. Awwwyeah. Nonsticky. Tactile, energy field stuff.


**A/N: Ratchet fapping. **Awwwyeah. **Nonsticky. Tactile, energy field stuff. **

Prompted by idrawboobs with: "_Ratchet has the base all to himself and a new energy field manipulation toy he's been working on in private. Gogogogo!"_

* * *

Ratchet slammed the tool against the bare panel. He'd been at it for _hours_ now, rewiring, patching, welding and still could not get the full frame scanner functional. Sure, he could always use his personal scanner for quick checkups, but for more serious injuries or malfunctions, he needed this part of his medical bay working. He'd surely burn out circuits trying to scan a 'bot in full with his own device. Then where would that leave him?

The medic growled in a way usually reserved for when Bulkhead broke his toys or when Miko disobeyed orders.

"Scrap," he swore, ventilating slowly to keep his systems from getting worked up. Making himself sick would do no good for the team. Perhaps one more try and he would take an energon break. The rest of the Autobots would be out for quite some time and it would be nice to have a quiet cube, maybe listen to some music.

"Alright." He stepped inside the machine once again. Perhaps he had overlooked some of the wiring on the inside. A quick shift and his servo transformed into the welder. His processor linked up to configure the type of energy being used, and he was able to pop open another panel with ease.

His hand converted back into place and he leaned in, squinting at the wiring. Hm. He'd already _done_ this, though. What could possibly be keeping it from working? The scraplets hadn't gotten to this machine and that was some time ago so it was unlikely that their work could be showing up now. An optical ridge ticked. Someone must have damaged it using the scanner's shower function and _neglected_ to tell the medic of the malfunction.

Ratchet grumbled and tried to focus on the tiny wires before him. Wouldn't hurt to try a new setup. A quick rewire and he stood back to examine his work. Time for a test, then. No need to close the panel just yet. Reaching over, he activated the scanner and waited for the appropriate sounds. There. He pressed the scan key.

A loud pop hit his audials and he almost jumped out of his plating. What the frag was the problem _now?_ There was no reason it should still be acting up, it should be _fine _now! He was ready to throw tools across the room. The scanner gave a sudden loud _thunk_, like a switch being thrown. Ratchet stiffened, a strangled vocalization caught in his throat, and his vision nearly blipped out for a nano-klik. His entire frame was being engulfed by—what? It was strong. Buzzing and burning, almost like—an energy field?

His hand slapped the controls and the scanner shut itself down. Ratchet held onto the railing, plating tingling and panting as if he'd just raced Bumblebee.

When he regained, he looked up at the panel he'd rewired. Had he somehow inverted the scan or...? But that hardly made sense. That had felt as if his very energy field was being manipulated. It had felt—good. Really good.

No, no. The medic reached for the wires. Optics cut outside of the scanner towards the ground bridge. Perhaps... it would be worth a test. To better understand the machine's finicky settings.

Yes. For science.

A servo slid over the controls. Alright. He put pressure on the key and stepped into the middle of the machine, hands firmly on the railing.

Nothing? He looked to the wires. Maybe it was a one-time occurrence. Perhaps this was for the best.

He barely took a step before there was a delightful _pop_ and_ thunk_. Ratchet reeled instantly. The buzzing was strong and deep, like a skilled lover's energy field. It reached in, vibrated under his plating, laved across sensor nodes and circuits.

The doctor had to hold himself up by the railing and he distantly felt metal give under his fingers. He could feel his plating loosening and expanding, wanting more of that delicious crawl. His own static raced up his frame in fizzling tendrils. It was so powerful his chest plating trembling as though it wanted to part. Oh, it had been a long time since someone touched his spark. But it didn't seem like a good idea now so he willed those seams together, grinding dentals and intaking sharply.

His own field released hotly from his plating, reaching out and begging to mingle with the artificial buzz of the scanner. Engine roared and sputtered from the sensation, legs shook, and vision was a beautiful mess of static. He hadn't realized until then but he had been moaning quite loudly. Thank Primus no one else was around. He hardly made noises like this on the occasion that he _was_ in the berth with someone.

Frag. His fans practically squealed inside of him trying to expel hot air. Even the air coming from his oral vents was steaming.

Friction. He needed friction. Digging fingers into the railing, he turned his shaking frame. Slowly he pressed his pelvis forward against the rattling metal. He groaned long and low. Even such small pressure against his plating had sent a strong ripple up his sensornet. He pressed again, dragging his hips up a little to where his hands held on.

"_Hah_," he gasped, shifting his legs and starting a grind. Energy jumped from his frame in visible arcs. He felt like he was on fire, every bit of metal burning so good. He ground and pushed, choking on moans until his plating contracted tight and energy exploded from his system. He shuddered his overload, hips jerking and hands twitching on the railing. He felt his grip weaken just seconds before his vision whited out into nothing.

• • •

"There you go, Ratch, online..."

Ratchet opened his optics and they felt crossed. Everything tingled. He shook his helm before trying to look up again. Bulkhead was holding his arm and helped him stand slowly.

Bulkhead? Frag! Ratchet's helm whipped around, optics cycling wide. "Bulkhead, what..." Oh, he was very dizzy. His hands snapped to hold onto the bigger mech.

"Come on," the Wrecker said, lifting the medic to help him out of the scanner.

"What—" Still dizzy. He groaned.

"You weren't answering your commlink. I was already close by."

"Yeah, doc!" Miko piped from somewhere below. Ratchet felt his helm ache already. "You were totally knocked out cold when we got here!"

Bulkhead sat him down on a medical berth. "I—thank you," Ratchet almost slurred. The edges of his vision were fuzzy and his glossa felt heavy in his mouth.

"What happened?" the big 'bot asked, surprising Ratchet by handing him a vial of fuel. He really needed coolant though...

"I was... recalibrating the scanner," the medic half-lied, gaze cutting to the machine. He mournfully noticed the smoke rising from that naughty little panel. Once he recovered he would need to spend the rest of the day fixing it. He made a mental note of the current wire configuration.

For science.


End file.
